Harry Potter and the Power of Time
Chapter 5 – A Death in Knockturn Alley
As Harry walked away from animal hide store, he reflected back on his extremely long day. He'd been up for almost twelve hours now, and was constantly hiding, lying, and worrying about giving away his presence. Harry decided he didn't much like being CONSTANTLY VIGILANT, and knew he would need a rest soon.
He had plans to go into Knockturn Alley, and thought about putting those off until tomorrow, but Harry thought that might be too risky. If even one person who had recognized him that day had spread word, there would certainly be a few Death Eaters lurking about tomorrow, not too mention Order members. He would have to make a quick stop to pick up his new robes, but couldn't afford another day of leisurely window shopping. As much a Harry wanted to crawl into bed and assimilate all that had happened to him that day, he knew he had to wait a few more hours.
Harry easily found the eyeglass shop that Cho's mother had talked about, and knew why he had passed it all day long without seeing it. Although Mrs. Chang had said it was in Diagon Alley, and Harry supposed the actual building was, the entrance way faced Knockturn Alley. After a quick look around, Harry made a bee line for the door. Hedwig almost fell off his shoulder before catching some air, and flew ahead to rest on a nearby awning. She hooted her disapproval at Harry for entering the dark alley, but Harry was inside before she had much say.
The store itself was much brighter and cleaner than the outside appearance led Harry to believe. All the merchandise was neatly displayed on wall-mounted racks, and Harry gaped as he took inventory of the magical replacement parts in front of him. He was told to expect eyeglasses and hearing aids, and a few other prosthetics, but there was virtually a replacement item for every part of the body you could think of. Harry recognized a whole section that appeared to be dedicated exclusively to Mad-Eye. The shop was filed to the brim with magical eyes, false legs, what Harry assumed were voice boxes, and even what he recognized as female enhancement parts. Harry blushed as he thought about whether these parts might feel more life-like than their muggle, saline counterparts. Not that Harry would know.
A kind looking woman was reading a copy of Witch Weekly and looked up as Harry approached the counter. "Hello there, how can I....Oh my God!....You're Harry Potter!"
Harry had already given up on his disguise. It was too dark for his sunglasses, and he couldn't well hide under his cloak's hood if he was to be fitted with glasses.
"Yes, sorry to startle you," he said, "but I was interested in some glasses and was told this is the place to go. I'm sort of treating myself today, and thought I'd replace my muggle ones. Any ideas?"
It took her a moment to calm herself, and Harry had to repeat his question, but the woman finally replied.
There appeared to be two types of magical corrective lenses. The first choice was a normal muggle frame, which were then layered with a selection of charms the buyer chose. Each charm added was an additional charge, and the shop offered a wide selection of options. The normal indestructible and weatherproof spells Harry already knew about. But there were also lesser known charms to change eye color, let the owner see better in the dark, change the color of the frames to match fashionable outfits, and even one to make the eyes give off a sparkling appearance. Harry didn't see the point of that last charm, but thought someone as shallow as Lavender Brown might be impressed by it.
The second option offered didn't differ much from the first. The charm selections were the same, which were also layered on for the same prices. The only difference was that these were magical lenses, not ordinary muggle ones. They sounded more like what Harry knew of as contact lenses. Once you put the glasses on, the lenses would begin to melt, and "fuse" to the owner's eyeballs. Harry cringed at the thought, and the shopkeeper agreed that it did hurt, but only for a moment. "It feels like a hot poker to the eye I'm told," she described, "except the pain only lasts about two seconds then stops completely. The glasses can also be taken off with a voice command, but that hurts just the same, so most people just leave them in for good. But many say it's well worth the pain, because you'll never have to clean or worry about them ever again."
It's not that Harry was a stranger to pain, but he was nervous about voluntarily going through it. However, he weighed the advantages the contact lenses would offer, and decided on them. His glasses had a tendency to slip during Quidditch, and Harry had plans to do some serious fighting in the upcoming months. Besides, although they never admit it, all people who wear glasses would give them up in a heartbeat if they could.
He informed the witch about his decision, and signed up for most of the options. Being able to change eye colors would be very useful, and the unbreakable and weatherproofing charms convenient. The eye color charm worked, the witch explained, by pressing your fingers against your closed eyelids, and speaking the color you wanted them to change to. They were pressure and voice activated, and would return to their original color with a command of "return". The only charm he left out was the "sparkle eye" option as he called it, as he had no plans for wooing Lavender this year.
As the witch pulled out a blank pair of lenses to begin the spell work, Harry for the millionth time that day got an odd look and long pause.
"Was there something else you needed to know?" Harry asked. She had already tested his prescription using an incantation he hadn't heard, and Harry didn't know what she was waiting for.
"Not really," she replied, "I was just wondering if you'd like an advanced option? It's normally not legal for those outside of the Hit Wizard department, but I've read about so many of your acclaims, I think it might help."
Harry was confused about what acclaims she was talking about, then glanced back at the Witch Weekly article she'd been reading earlier. Harry had known he'd been a regular fixture in the magazine since he started Hogwarts, and they seemed to romantically match him up with a different witch each week! He didn't know what advanced option she might offer that had anything to do with dating, but the mention of Hit Wizards stopped his comments. Those were the Ministry's most honored auror's, who specialized in seeking out and destroying dark creatures and wizards. "What's the option?"
"Well, I'm supposed to have written permission from the Ministry to use it, but the same charms and spells that are used to create advanced model magic eyeballs can be applied to lenses. I've read you're familiar with the retired auror Alastor Moody? Well, what he's got is an early version of what I'm talking about. Not many opt for the spells though, because they can be a bit distracting for the first few days. I'm not sure if you're aware, but advanced model magic eyes can see through virtually any surface, up to about one hundred feet. If you'd like to have the charms added, I wouldn't mind keeping quiet about them for you." The witch certainly was helpful, and Harry thought about all the use he could get out of a magical eye like Moody's. He'd never have to worry about someone sneaking up on him ever again. However, if his eyesight was affected for the first few days, not letting him see properly, Harry might die before he got the chance to properly use it.
Harry thought about it for a few moments, and then had an idea. "Does the charm have to be applied to both lenses, or can it be used for just one?"
"Oh no, Mr. Potter!" Did he ask a stupid question? "I would only use it on one lens regardless; otherwise you'd never be able to see properly. You see, once the charmed lens is in your eye, it will only be able to see magically. That's why we leave one eye alone; to allow proper vision. If you want to take advantage of the magical lens, just cover the other eye with you hand, or close your eye. You'll only have to do that just at first. Once you get used to seeing with the magical lens, you'll be able to switch back and forth between the two visions by will. Your brain will get used to the two different signals, and you'll be able to consciously switch back and forth, even with both eyes open. It's confusing the first few days, and you might have a headache, but it will all pass with time."
Sounded good to Harry, but he had one last question. "Is it permanent? Or can I take the eyepiece out if I don't like it?"
"It works the same way all magical glasses do, they can be removed." The witch reminded Harry. "But remember, there's pain on removal as well. And I think there'll be another few days of headaches and dizziness as you brain gets used to only one signal again."
So of course, if only for the reason that it was more expensive, Harry opted for the special treatments. If it was reversible, he'd give it a try. And if Harry didn't like it, no harm done.
Harry decided to wait for the glasses to be made, and watched carefully as the witch performed each layer of charms. It seemed each layer heated the special lenses, so she had to wait about two minutes between each layer for them to cool down. They killed time by exchanging some light conversation. She asked Harry about the scores of rumors she'd heard about (most untrue), and he asked the shopkeeper about some of the less identifiable pieces on display. About halfway through the charms she did slip a piece of news that surprised Harry.
"Been working in this shop for near twelve years now, and I never thought Harry Potter would walk through my doors."
Harry could've sworn Cho's mother had said the shop only opened last year, and asked the witch about it. It turned out; she'd only moved locations after saving her galleons over the years. What she said next surprised Harry even more. "Yes, the original shop was buried way back in Knockturn Alley, and the clientele wasn't too nice.
This surprised Harry because in no way did this shop seem to be involved with any type of dark arts, and he'd always been told that Knockturn Alley only catered to dark magic. But when he confronted the witch, she just laughed.
"No, no, funny you think that though. It's a common misconception, and parents like to scare their kids with horror stories, but not all shops in there are bad. It's just that a store like mine doesn't get the business that Madame Malkin gets, or any other of those stores in Diagon Alley. We couldn't nearly afford the rent! Most of the shops in Knockturn Alley aren't dark; they're just small, specialized stores that most people don't have the need for. Even the shops known for dark arts stuff don't openly display it; it's not legal. No, most of their stuff is questionable at best."
Harry thought about her answer as she went ahead and completed the lenses. It made sense, he supposed. After all, the wizarding world would hardly allow an entire street of dark art businesses to operate; and in the capital city no less. He'd been foolish to think like such a child. At least now Harry had felt better about his evening activities.
Soon the lenses were complete, and he made to put them on as he braced himself for the pain. It did hurt, and felt just like what Harry imagined a hot poker would be like, then it all stopped, and there wasn't even a hint of discomfort. The pain had been so quick, Harry hadn't even time to scream. Still, it wasn't something he was anxious to repeat again.
"I suggest you keep both eyes open for the first few hours, till your eyes get used to the new lenses. Then you can practice, and dare I day abuse your new toy all you like. Just don't come back here looking at me; I wear my robes for a reason!"
He didn't know what her statement meant until it dawned on Harry a few moments later. He could see through robes! Harry had never thought about using the magical lens like that; he'd been more concerned about security earlier on. But if he could see through robes, well then, 'Wow....I can check out every girl at Hogwarts if I want. And nobody will know!' Harry had this and a few more even nastier thoughts.
He must have been smirking though, because the old woman snapped at him as Harry paid and made his way to the door. "Remember son, don't go abusing that gift. I didn't give you a magic lens to go looking at girls' knickers! Use it well, and be careful." She paused, and then added. "And don't take what I said about Knockturn Alley too seriously. At night it's still a very dangerous place! If you're thinking about exploring, wait for the daytime!"
Harry thanked the lady once more, and was on his way. Although it was just past sunset, and there was a slight glow in the sky still, Harry did notice he could see remarkably well with his new lenses' night vision enhancement. It wasn't like anything out of a muggle spy film, and Harry couldn't see perfectly in the dark, it just increased the light levels slightly. Harry was also tempted to shut his right eye immediately to test his x-ray vision, but resisted the impulse at the woman's warnings. Harry could wait a few hours.
Hedwig wasn't noticing Harry apparently, because although she did follow behind him, she wouldn't look at him. Harry figured she must have still been upset at him for entering Knockturn Alley. And with that thought, he set off into the dark alleyway.
It seemed the lady was right. Although the people wondering the street weren't the most upstanding citizens (Harry even thought he saw a few hags), the shops he happened by didn't seem as evil as he thought they'd be. There was another Apothecary he passed, a pet shop that dealt in spiders and snakes, and a curiosity shop that had wizard artifacts from around the world. One of the largest stores he'd seen so far was Borgin & Burkes, and Harry remembered that one well. In his second year, Harry had his first bad experience with floo powder, and ended up there by accident instead of the Leaky Cauldron. Harry knew that the shop sold dark artifacts, because he'd overheard Lucius Malfoy doing business there. So that's why Harry decided to stop in there first.
It was just like he remembered. Dark and dank, filled with shadows and a musty smell. The shop needed a good dusting. There were a few bookshelves along one wall, glass cabinets around the others housing shrunken heads and other creepy things, and the empty black cabinet Harry had hid in was still there as well. There was no attendant in the store presently, so Harry began to browse the bookshelves.
A few titles were copies of books he'd seen earlier in Flourish & Blotts, but not many. There were only a few that interested Harry. "The Theory of Magic" looked to be a boring read, but promised that by having a better understanding of magical theory, complex spells would be easier to learn. "Apparition Adventures" was a book he wouldn't normally be allowed to buy until he was of age. 'In this shop,' Harry decided, 'I don't think that will be a problem.'
The text explained the basic rules of apparition, showed an easy fifteen step process to learn how, and gave graphic details on some of history's greatest blunders (complete with color photos of some nasty splinches). It was more a guide on what not to do than an actual instruction manual, but Harry thought he could learn from it.
The last book Harry placed in his small book pile was "The Revised 184th Edition Floo Network Directory". Harry wasn't a big fan of floo travel, but thought it a good idea to have a list of wizard destinations. The book also explained how to attach and remove fireplaces to the floo network, which could come in handy.
The other books weren't to Harry's liking, and he went to turn around to look for a shopkeeper, when he spied the man behind the counter starring at him. Harry turned back to the bookshelves quickly, taken by surprise by the man. He must have entered the shop very quietly, almost as if he was spying on Harry. He was about to turn around again to address the man, when Harry remembered he wasn't in disguise anymore. He still had on his ski cap and hood, but the sunglass were in his tiny trunk, and his green eyes were clearly prominent.
So Harry decided to test out his new magical lenses. He set the books he was holding aside, pressed his fingers to his eyelids, and ordered them to turn brown. Harry decided that this would be the most usual color, and wouldn't draw as much attention as blue or grey eyes.
He picked back up his selected texts, and approached the man behind the counter. "I wish to purchase these, as well as a few additional things. I was told by a friend that you had a private collection I might look at?"
The man gazed at Harry suspiciously, almost as if he himself had a magical eye to look through Harry's disguise. "Who told you I have a private collection? Those books," he gestured to the back wall, "are the only ones I got."
Harry had expected the man, who he now realized was the same one from four years ago, to be wary of him. That's why he'd practiced a cover story earlier. Of all the lies and half truths he'd been telling all day long, this lie would be the most important to Harry.
"My friend's father, a Mr. Lucius Malfoy, told me I might be pleased with some of the more rare selections in your shop. I don't see anything here, and he did hint that you might only do business with a select clientele. I can assure you, I'd be willing to pay more than a fair price for whatever I find I like."
The man's eyes widened at Malfoy's name. No doubt he remembered the man's expensive tastes. But he didn't give in just yet. "If you know Lucius Malfoy, then tell me why I haven't been seeing him around town lately."
It was a test he supposed. Harry had no doubt that some of the darker wizards in society knew that Lucius Malfoy had been captured by the Ministry. The Daily Prophet however had withheld names of the captured Death Easters until a trial could be held, so the public at large had no idea who they were.
"Let's just say," Harry responded, "that Mr. Malfoy was a bit careless in his recent actions, and will be laying low for awhile. It does all sound a bit mysterious, but I'd expect to see him shortly." With the not too subtle hint about the Department of Mysteries, the man smiled and lifted the countertop.
"I'd have to agree with your assessment, sir. I do happen to have a rare collection in the back, right this way." The man locked the front door with a spell, and led Harry to the back room that was even darker and dustier than the front one. The man, who introduced himself as Bartemus Burkes, muttered a spell to light a nearby torch. The back room was filled with moldy boxes and crates, and had a small desk in the middle of the room. Burkes approached the desk, placed his wand against the front drawer, and said something Harry couldn't understand. Then the desk seemed to vanish, and in its place was a trapdoor on the floor.
Burkes lifted the trapdoor open, and climbed down a short ladder into the room below. He motioned for Harry to follow, and Harry did. Once down Harry looked around, and found himself in a dark chamber the size of the front and back rooms together. It was crammed with books and relics, from floor to ceiling. Their were even a few knives like in Mr. Anjay's shop, but these blades seemed to glow with a frightening red light. "Well then," Burkes informed Harry, "welcome to my collection of rare antiquities. Is there something in particular you're after? Perhaps I can help?"
Harry though about how to carefully word his reply. Then he began. "Well, I'll be looking at the books you have. But I'm also interested in something else. I'll be moving to another country soon, and will want to be able to use magic without the ministry knowing about it, strictly for defense of course. My new home doesn't have the same laws we do here, and I want to be able to practice freely before I move. I was led to believe I might find an answer to my problems at your shop."
"Yes, I think I might have something that can help. You're still a student then?" The man seemed to know what he was talking about.
"Yes, for another year." Harry told a small lie about his age.
"Well, if you've been home schooled, or attend a foreign school abroad, a short spell can help you. All children entering the magical school system have a basic monitoring spell placed on them by Ministry personal the first day of learning. The students never notice of course, but the first years are often separated on their first day of school for just this purpose."
'So that's why the first years take the rowboats instead of carriages,' Harry thought. 'There must be a wizard or witch in hiding spelling all of them. With all the attention on the castle and waterfall, they'd never notice a Ministry employee.'
"The counter spell is quite simple," Burkes continued, "just not well known. Now if you attend Hogwarts, that's a bit more complicated."
Harry slouched with that remark, so Burkes knew he did indeed attend Hogwarts. He continued, "Hogwarts also casts the same monitoring charm, as ordered by the Ministry, but since Dumbledore has been Headmaster, all the students have ingested a potion as well. It serves the same monitoring purpose, but far harder to overcome. There is an antidote available I happen to have, but it's quite expensive you understand. The Ministry also frowns on such potions being made, so it's a bit of a grey matter you see."
'It's illegal you mean,' Harry thought. Still, he couldn't remember being forced to take any type of potion upon entering Hogwarts, and Harry was worried about being ripped off by the old man. So he asked, "When does Hogwarts give out this potion?"
"It's quite brilliant actually. At the beginning of the year feast, all the pumpkin juice and other beverages are laced with it. It lasts about a year, and is reinforced at the start of each term. Dumbledore may be a crazy old coot, but he does have a few good ideas now and again. I can only assume that if a student misses the feast, then they're fed the potion some other time individually. Dumbledore seems to keep tabs on who misses the feast, so he can make sure all his students have been affected. The potion not only lets him track students' magic usage during vacations, but he's able to monitor them throughout the school year as well. So now you know why the old man always seems to know who's been up to what."
Harry might have been surprised at one point in his naïve life that Dumbledore would lace their food with an unknown drug, but not anymore. 'Just one more way he manipulates those around him,' Harry thought. But Harry was also excited. If the counter charm was cast by the man, and Harry drank the potion's antidote, he'd be free to practice magic without fear of being expelled! So Harry told the man, "I'll take it, the potion and the counter charm."
"Very good then. Just remember to avoid drinking anything at the start of term feast. But don't be obvious about it, or they'll catch on that you know about the potion," Burkes warned Harry. He then took out his wand and waved it around Harry's head in a triangle pattern. Harry listened carefully in case he wanted to use the spell again, and barely caught the words "Tollo Pervigil Venificus."
Burkes finished the spell and put his wand away. "That's the easy part. The antidote will take me a few minutes to brew. Do you mind waiting?"
"Actually," said Harry, "I'd like to look through the books down here if you don't mind."
"Not a problem," Burkes let him know, "only the books though. The rest of the items are a bit dangerous if I'm not around. Simple security precautions you see. I'd wait till I returned to handle anything besides the books."
Harry agreed. After all, some of the creepy things looked like they might bite Harry if he got too close. Mr. Burkes slipped into a back room in the underground chamber, apparently to make the potion antidote. Being left alone, Harry walked back to the bookshelves to have a look around. "These books would certainly belong in the restricted section," Harry mumbled, "or not even there at all!" Some of the books were so dark and evil, Harry couldn't imagine a legitimate reason for his school to have them.
However, Harry wasn't looking to play nice, and picked out some of the books he liked. Six were about dangerous curses and hexes. Another choice, "Breaking the Will of the Weak Minded Wizard," was all about perfecting the Imperius Curse. There were also advanced Occlumency and Legilimency texts, which Harry immediately placed in his growing pile. "What the Ministry of Magic Doesn't Want You to Know" was the largest book Harry had seen, and for good reason. Inside were full instructions on casting all of the Ministry controlled magics. Portkey creation, forced apparition, advanced obliviation; all were thoroughly explained with great detail. There were even a few things that Harry had never heard of.
And the last book Harry chose was perhaps the darkest. Not just an illegal text, but a true Dark Arts book. "Unforgivable Curses of Foreign Ministries" listed the equivalent spells of the three British unforgivables from around the world. Some served the same purpose as the Imperius and Cruciatus, but had different incantations in foreign languages. There were a variety of killing curses as well. None of those were as powerful as the Avada Kedavra, and most of them could even be blocked, but the end result was death just the same. Harry didn't plan on using a whole lot of these curses, but thought that knowing about them would be a smart idea. He'd keep an ear out for them, and would know that they're just as dangerous as the others.
A few more titles caught Harry's eye, but soon Mr. Burkes was back with a small vial in his hand, and Harry went to meet him. Burkes complimented Harry on his selection, and instructed Harry to drink the potion in the store. Burkes told Harry it was traceable to him, so he didn't want it to leave his possession. Harry drank the small vial of red liquid, and was surprised by its sweet taste. Almost like honey, with a bit of a kick. With his possessions in hand, Harry made his way back to the ladder to exit the underground chamber, when he was stopped by Burkes' strong voice.
"Just one more thing before you leave." Harry turned around and was shocked to see Burkes' wand pointed at him. "If Lucius Malfoy really sent you," he continued, "then he surely told you about what you'd have to do as a new customer?"
Harry had no idea what to do. His seemingly flawless plan wasn't so flawless after all. Harry wiped his face of its surprised expression, and addressed the man holding him at wand point. He couldn't fight the man off, because his wand arm was holding his new purchases. He thought another lie might get him in deeper trouble, so Harry told the truth.
"Er, ahh, no, not really." But he quickly added on, "Malfoy did mention about having to do something unexpected, but he never said what it was."
Burkes lowered his wand a little and instructed Harry to put down the books and draw his wand. Harry was a bit confused at the statement, but flicked his wrist anyways, and was armed a moment later.
"Nice holster." Burkes seemed to like Harry's new purchase. "Hope I didn't scare you, but I got to make sure you're not an undercover agent or anything. With those items you're interested in, I could get in a lot of trouble. So I need you to prove that you aren't out to nab me."
Harry didn't know what to think. He had to give the man credit though. Harry had never thought about the possibility, but Burkes sure had. So he asked, "What do I have to do?"
Burkes thought a moment, and answered, "I chose something different each time. Those books however are very dangerous, so I don't think you'll mind what I'm thinking." He seemed to pause. "I want you to cast the Cruciatus on me, just for a few seconds. That way if you plan on telling anyone about what you've seen here, you'll be put in Azkaban as well."
Harry couldn't believe it. He had been thinking he might be forced to take a truth serum or something, but had never expected the man to willingly undergo the pain of the Cruciatus curse. Harry was so surprises by the request, he hadn't yet realized that he was the one who'd have to cast it. "Are you sure? I mean, I happen to know first hand how much pain that curse causes. Isn't there something else you'd want?"
"Nope," Burkes continued, and almost had a look of excitement, "I want you to cruciate me. Nothing too strong, and only for a few seconds. Don't get any ideas either. We're locked in this chamber, and you're not getting out without my help."
Again, Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. Beside the unbelievable fact that the man actually wanted the most painful curse in existence cast against him, Harry had some qualms about using the curse. He had used it before on Lestrange in the Ministry just a week ago, and it had almost made him sick. Burkes was undoubtedly a shady character, but Harry held no real malice towards the man. He didn't even know if he'd even be able to use the curse properly. Lestrange had only been affected for an instant, and then laughed the rest off. Harry wasn't worried about getting carried away, and certainly wasn't worried about Burkes turning him in. He just couldn't believe someone would want the curse cast on them intentionally. However, Harry had gotten himself into this mess, and there was only one way out.
"If you're sure then?" Harry asked very carefully as he slowly pointed his wand at Burkes.
"Yes, just give me a bit of a warning." Burkes put away his own wand and seemed to brace himself for the pain. Again, Harry saw what could only be described as gleeful excitement in his eyes. Strange man.
"Ok then, on the count of three." Harry cleared his mind and concentrated on the spell he was about to use. Not trusting Lestrange's advice about needing to feel hate for the spell to work properly, Harry intended to concentrate on the feeling he suffered from the time Voldemort cast the Cruciatus against him. If he caused Burkes even a fraction of that pain, then he'd be successful. Harry only hoped he didn't go too far. He didn't want to make it painless in case not being able to cast it properly would disappoint Burkes, but he didn't want the man to go insane either.
With a final deep breathe, Harry opened his eyes and addressed Burkes. "Here we go then....one, two, three," and with the countdown over, Harry said in a clear and loud voice, not quite yelling, "CRUCIO!"
A red beam of light shot out the end of his wand, and hit Burkes directly in the chest. He started to scream even before the light had hit him, and Harry almost lowered his wand then. But he didn't want to have to repeat the experience, so he kept his wand trained at the man as he continued to scream and sink to the ground. Burkes was shaking uncontrollably, and pawing at his own body. Harry thought he was about to claw his own eyes out too, and lowed his wand just as the man started to yank on his hair. To Harry the time that passed felt like an eternity, but a glance at his watch showed only four seconds had gone by.
Burkes remained on the floor for a long while, slowly regaining his composure. Harry did the same, swallowing down the rising bile in his throat. He didn't feel as repulsed with himself as he did last time, but Harry was still very uncomfortable with what he had just done. Burkes finally stood with his back to Harry, and pulled a small vial out of his robe pocket. It was a yellowish color, like mustard, and Burkes drank it quickly. Harry thought it had to be something for the pain. Burkes then replaced the empty vial in his pocket, and turned around to face Harry.
After a deep breath, he spoke, "I must say, that was a very strong Cruciatus for such a young man." A normal person would have complained about this fact, but Burkes looked like he had very much enjoyed it. Harry felt sick as he couldn't avoid noticing the man's obvious arousal poking at the front of his robes. "It's evident this isn't your first time using that curse. Very impressive."
'And Aunt Petunia calls me a freak!' Harry thought. But he swallowed his revulsion and replied to the man. "Not actually the first time, no," Harry had no intention on mentioning it was only his second time, "and I'm sorry if it was a bit too strong. I tried to hold back."
Mr. Burkes looked surprised, and a large smile appeared on his face. "Don't worry, not too much, just stronger than I was expecting. We'll have to do this again sometime!"
Harry didn't think it likely, but nodded and followed the wizard as he slowly climbed up the stairs and opened the trapdoor. Once back in the upper rear room, the door was closed, and the desk magically reappeared. He and Burkes made for the front room where the money machine was placed, and Harry took out his money pouch to pay for his purchases.
"Here you go," Harry said as he slid the galleons and sickles across the counter, "and here's a bit extra for your trouble. I hope we can both keep quiet about my made purchases." Harry had given the man an extra fifty galleons on top of the already large price. It couldn't hurt to pad the strange man's pockets.
"Thank you sir," Burkes replied, "and have no fear. My business wouldn't nearly be as successful without a high level of discretion."
And with that Harry expanded his new trunk, placed the dark books into the first compartment, and was out the door as quickly as possible.
With the darker books purchased, Harry completed his shopping list and could have then headed back to the Leaky Cauldron; but he didn't. There weren't too many other shops in Knockturn Alley that interested Harry, but he thought he'd have a quick look around anyway. He wasn't likely to be back anytime soon, and thought looking around couldn't possibly hurt.
A few more strange boutiques passed by, none of the items in the windows appealing to Harry. He rounded the end corner, and started his way back to the Diagon Alley entrance. He soon came upon a small store, which seemed uncomfortably sandwiched between two larger buildings. The windows were boarded up, but there was an open sign below the marquee that read 'Dead Wizard Possessions." It was just past eight o'clock, so Harry thought that he could spend a few minutes inside, and still get a good night's sleep.
The inside of the store was neat and orderly, and yet crammed and full at the same time. There was a method to the madness, not that Harry could figure it out. It was at least as crowded as the junk shop in Diagon Alley, and looked like it held the same type of possessions as well. A middle aged witch sat in an armchair off to the side, and Harry approached her.
"Excuse me ma'am," Harry asked, "but what does the sign mean by dead wizard possessions?"
"Just what it sounds like boy!" She spat. "All the things in here, once belonged to someone who's now dead. Sometimes the family sells the items if they need money, or just throw them out and I pick it up later. Most of this junk's not too useful, but a few items are worth something. You just have to wade through all the shite to find the rare pearl."
She was clear with her answer that she didn't want to hear anymore questions, and so Harry left her alone to look through the sloppy aisles. He saw old textbooks, used clothes, even some snapped wands. There was a lot of other junk, but Harry found something of much worth tucked under a torn cloak twenty minutes later. A pensieve! If that wasn't a rare pearl, then what was?
Harry hadn't even thought about purchasing a pensieve, and he wondered why. He knew Dumbledore used one to sift through his thoughts and help him think through difficult decisions, and Harry thought that it didn't sound like a bad idea. He didn't even know where to normally find something as unique as a pensieve, and praised his luck at finding one in this strange shop.
It was a bit different then the one Dumbledore, and then Snape had used. This model was a bit larger, a little deeper, and had a stone lid to keep nosy teenagers out of it. It was made of an olive colored marble, with raised runes that were painted blood red. Turning the pensieve over, Harry also found a small piece of parchment spell-o-taped to the bottom with initials written on it. "E.R."
Harry supposed they were the initials of the person who the pensieve had once belonged to, and turned it back over. The stone lid was held it place by a leather strap, and opened on a metal hinge once the strap was removed. Harry was surprised once he looked inside, however, because the empty stone basin he expected to find was really quite full. It still held the memories of whoever E.R. was.
Harry felt a little nervous about dipping into a stranger's memories, and didn't want to regardless, in the middle of a shop in Knockturn Alley. He could always look through them later, or just dump them out if he wanted.
The mean witch just gave him a price when he went to purchase the pensive, two hundred seventy three galleons and some change. She didn't ask any questions, and Harry didn't mind in the least. He paid as quickly as possible and left. He had no intention of chatting with the witch about who the pensieve might have belonged to; Harry hadn't gotten a good vibe from her.
So with one more purchase in his trunk, Harry made for the door. He was feeling good at the moment, as the pensieve wasn't nearly as expensive as Harry thought it might have been. That's when he noticed a man two stores down who seemed to be looking at him. Harry remembered the man from seeing him earlier in the day, and didn't want to be recognized. Harry could just see tomorrow's Daily Prophet headlines. "Boy-Who-Lived Shopping For Dark Arts in Knockturn Alley!" No, Harry most certainly didn't want to see that article, so he turned back the way he had come, and ducked into a large building he'd already passed by.
Harry didn't know what to make of the store. It was fairly large, and had a muggle neon light in the window. It was because of the neon, which spelled out "Body Art," that made Harry pause. "What's a neon light doing in Knockturn Alley?" He needed a place to lay low however. If he spent a few minutes in the store, Harry thought the man would go away.
Had he spent more time in the muggle world, and led less of a sheltered life, Harry would have recognized the place as a tattoo parlor even from the outside. It looked just the same as any other tattoo parlor in muggle London would, with the exception that the drawings and designs adorning the walls all moved, just like the magical portraits at Hogwarts. There was also a large selection of small rings and bars, decorated with small beads and crystals. Body piercing, Harry knew.
"You, lad! Can I do something for ya?" A big burley man stepped towards Harry, and was a bit frightening. Although Harry could tell the man was a wizard from his wand worn in a belt holster, he was not like any wizard Harry had seen before.
The man had hair a color that would surprise even Tonks, and must have had at least three rings in each ear. The man's bulky arms were displayed by the sleeveless robes he wore, and showed off a dozen or more tattoos, that freely moved to visit with each other. 'If there were such thing as biker wizards,' Harry thought, 'they would look like this man!'
"Umm, sorry. I just stepped inside when I noticed the muggle neon. Just looking really," Harry stammered an answer.
"Well, fell free to look around. The neon's a new addition, someone told me it's a bit of an industry must-have. Nice to know it's working." The man paused and looked at Harry more closely. "Hey, you know if you're underage you can't be getting anything in here without a guardian's permission, right?"
Harry didn't think Uncle Vernon would ever let him get a tattoo, muggle or magical. It was too far from normal. "What if I don't have a guardian? I've been on my own for a while."
The man asked, "Where's you parents kid? Someone's got to be looking out for you."
"Nope," Harry answered, "I've been on my own for four years now. My parents died, and I was placed with relatives, but they threw me out. I look after myself now." It wasn't the truth, but it was how Harry had always felt.
"Besides, I'm seventeen in a few weeks." Now that was a blatant lie. His birthday would be in just about five weeks, but it would be another year before Harry became an adult. "I'm just small for my age."
The man nodded and said nothing, and went back to polishing what looked like some equipment. Harry looked around the shop, and spotted a few designs he liked. There were magical creatures of all kind, and a few pictures of famous witches and wizard as well. Harry spotted the house crests of the four Hogwarts' houses, and a few other crests which he thought might belong to pureblood families. There were also the typical images as well. Butterflies, anchors, hearts, and even a cheesy "I Love Mum" picture could be found on the walls.
"You found anything you like? I suppose if you're on your own, no one will bitch at me if I let you get inked." Harry forgot that the man was still in the shop, and jumped at his question.
Harry had never before considered anything like getting a tattoo. He didn't even know that there were magical ones to be had. He wasn't opposed to the idea, and had even seen some shows on the telly in his youth that had cool looking tattooed men in them, but Harry didn't think he could just slap on any random picture. Although he liked a few pictures of phoenixes and griffins he'd seen, Harry thought he might be a little young to make such a drastic choice.
"Some of these are pretty cool," Harry admitted, "but I don't think I'm interested. If I did decide to get a tattoo, I'd want it to be personal, and mean more than just a random picture off some wall."
"Yeah, you're a wise lad aren't you? Smart thinking! Too many young wizards make mistakes like what you just said, and come to regret it." The man put his leg up on a chair and lifted his robe a little. "Come here, I want to show you my first mistake."
Harry approached the man cautiously, and looked at his leg. It too was covered in many images darting around on his skin.
"See this name here," he pointed to an elegantly written SANDRA that was dancing around his ankle, "she was me first girlfriend. Thought I was in love, and that we'd marry. Two months later she ran off with some bloke, and I haven't seen her since. This damn tattoo likes to remind me of the stupidity of my youth, and constantly creeps up all over my body just to annoy me.
"And see this one here," the man now pointed to a Mexican looking man with a large red cape, "I tattooed this matador here to go around chasing Sandra, and try to cover her up. It worked for the first few years, but now he's grown tired, and doesn't go after her like he's supposed to."
He supposed it was a sore point for the large man, but Harry couldn't think it was one of the funniest things he'd seen all day. He tried to hold in his laughter, but a small smile did creep out.
The man only smiled back. "It is a bit funny, ain't it? You're lucky you caught me on a good day, or else I would've pounded you."
"Sorry," Harry apologized, "but I couldn't help it. I've never seen a magical tattoo before, and that story was just too funny." Harry was outright laughing now. "Tell me," Harry asked, "Does Sandra ever wonder over parts she shouldn't?" Harry was still giggling after he asked the question.
The man joined in Harry's laughter now. "That's between me and Sandra here. But between you and me, she sure does have a nice feel to her."
Harry was almost on the floor now, laughing so hard. 'Maybe if Ron doesn't get over his fears and ask her out,' Harry joked with himself, 'I'll get him a HERMIONE tattoo.' Harry was now tearing with mirth. He cackled some more as he continued that train of thought. 'With his luck though, it'll just boss him to study more!'
Harry tried to calm down as the man rolled his robes back over his leg. He pushed the chair back in place, and bent down to unlock a cabinet. When he came back up with what looked like an ink bottle, the man's smiling face was gone.
"Now, if you're worried about not having a tattoo that's personal enough, then this here's another option." He held out the ink bottle, and Harry could see the dark liquid inside was a bit thinner than parchment ink should be. "This is a type of tribal tattoo that American Indian wizards use, and it's pretty powerful."
Harry looked at the strange bottle and asked what it did.
"Well you see, Indians drink this potion, and it gets into your bloodstream. Burns like hell it does! You ever eat a hot pepper? Well, imagine that feeling coursing through your veins. After about five minutes, the potion starts working its way out of the bloodstream, and works its way to the surface of your skin. It could appear anywhere on your body, and the form it takes is influenced a person's subconscious and magical aura. The tattoo shape appears in the form of a welt, clearly visible, and that's how I know where to ink ya."
The man bent down again and brought out a tray of different colored ink bottles. "This ink here I only use for the Indian tats. They combine with the potion and counter its effects. Once a person drinks the potion, and the design works its way to the skin, you got to use this ink. If you don't, it continues to burn, and the welt turns into a scar. Eventually the potion would leak out your body, but that would hurt something nasty. The ink and the potion work like an acid and base, you see. They cancel each other out."
Harry had never heard of anything like it before. He wondered what type of tattoo might be made by such a personal experience, and asked the man if he had one.
"Yeah, got one about five years ago." The man quickly added on, "But don't ask to see it. Most people don't like to share these tattoos. They're very personal, and they don't always turn out to be a good thing."
Harry asked what the man meant, and he explained.
"Well, if you're a decent enough person, you end up liking the tattoo. Like I said, it's formed by your magical aura. But some other people, ones who have secrets to hide, or aren't too nice, come out with bad designs. The people end up subconsciously punishing themselves, because they know deep inside that they deserve it. These tattoos aren't just pretty colors, you see, they got magical properties too. Some tattoos, like the bad ones I mentioned, cause pain and hurt. Some other tattoos feel good, and cause pleasure. There's no way to tell what the tattoos will do until it's on. That's why I keep my supply hidden. I don't like to show it off to too many people."
Harry was curious about that also, so asked the man. "They're not illegal or anything, if that's what you mean. It's just that most people, especially the older one gets, always have something to hide. They'd be risking a bad tattoo without even knowing it. I only usually show off these inks to people I know well, who I like. I don't know you from beans, but you seem to be a good kid. And if you've been on your own for awhile now, you must have some strength of character. The stuff's pretty pricy though, about ninety galleons per tattoo, depending on its size."
If asked a month ago, Harry would never dream of getting a tattoo. But now he was seriously considering it. It would end up being extremely personal, and it could be something that he could keep to himself. It would also be a symbol of his new independent attitude, and his rebellion against Dumbledore and the rest of the Order of the Phoenix. Harry walked away from the counter, and seriously thought about whether he wanted to go through with it or not. He didn't think he'd end up with an evil tattoo or anything. He had felt guilty over Cedric and Sirius' deaths at one point, but had already stopped blaming himself for those. 'If anything,' Harry thought, 'these tattoos could help me fight against Voldemort. If that's what my life's purpose is supposed to be, then surely my subconscious will know it. Something like this could prove useful.'
So with that thought Harry told the burly man he wanted the tribal tattoo. After making sure Harry had thought the decision through clearly, he led Harry into a back stall. A woman came out from the back room to attend to the shop, and the man brought the small bottles in with him.
"Ok," he said, "before you drink this potion, strip. Down to your shorts. I gotta be able to see where the potion comes to surface."
Harry nodded hesitantly, but did remove his robes and muggle clothes. His first thoughts that the guy was a perv were put to rest when he realized this must be a natural occurrence in a tattoo parlor. He left his ski cap on though, as it only covered his hair. With any luck the potion wouldn't appear on his head, and Harry wouldn't have to take the cap off.
"Now, I'm going to use a silencing charm and body bind on you, just in case you can't take the pain. That way you don't hurt yourself. Then I'll pour the potion in your mouth. Five minutes later, most of the pain will stop, and you'll just feel burning on the skin where the potion's breaking through. Any question?"
Harry didn't have any, and was nervous enough as it was, so shook his head quickly before he could change his mind. Then with a spoken "Silencio" and "Petrificus Totalus," Harry was unable to speak and in a full body bind, still standing in the middle of the small stall. The tattoo artist grabbed hold of Harry so he wouldn't fall over, and then poured the potion into his mouth.
It tasted nasty, but Harry was so stiff he couldn't even gag. The foul potion worked its way to the back of his mouth, and seemed to make its way down his throat as if on its own accord. That's when the pain began. Instead of going down his throat into his stomach, the potion seemed to rip into Harry's bloodstream with a burning sensation, just like he had eaten a hot pepper.
Fred and George had once invented a candy bar, Habanero Heath Crunch, that Harry had the misfortune of eating accidentally. It was made with the world's hottest hot pepper, a Habanero, which was about 100,000 times hotter than a jalapeno. Harry's mouth had been on fire that day for hours. This new feeling was so much worse.
The feeling wasn't just in his mouth, although that's where it started. It soon began to creep down his body, towards his chest, and through his entire head. Harry had no trouble telling when the heat hit his heart, because then the painful feeling shot threw the rest of his body, with a burning jolt each time his heart beat.
If he could have screamed out, he would have. At least with the Cruciatus a person passed out after awhile, but not with this form of torture. It seemed to go on forever, spreading through his entire body, until it soon slowed and a different burning sensation appeared on Harry's back. It was different in that it seemed to tingle, and the burning was closer to his skin, and not in the bloodstream. The pain increased as it burrowed its way to the surface, but the extreme heat in Harry's body dulled to a low ache.
Another minute later and the experience was over, the only pain that remained centered on three points on his back. The man, Harry still didn't know his name, stood again to support Harry as he ended the spells he'd cast, and helped him to a nearby seat. "There now, it's all over, at least the bad part. That wasn't too bad now, was it?"
Harry looked at the man like he was crazy. "Not too bad!" Harry shouted. "That was the most painful thing I've ever been through in my life! And if you knew anything about me, that would tell you it's quite a lot!"
The artist laughed as he assembled his instruments on a small metal table. "Well, I admit, it did look a tad more painful than I remember. But you only have yourself to blame for that."
Harry was seriously considering hitting the man who easily outweighed him by a hundred pounds. Harry was being laughed at, and he didn't much like it. And how could he be blamed for experiencing more pain than he should have had?
The artist seemed to see the anger in Harry's brown eyes though, and calmed him down. "Relax kid, I didn't mean anything by it. I just mean that you've had a bit of an unusual case. Instead of one normal tattoo appearing, you have three separate ones. I've never seen more than one tattoo appear at a time, and they're a bit smaller than normal too. I just meant that for whatever reason, your subconscious decided on three tattoos, that's why there was extra pain. So really, you can't blame me."
Harry calmed down at hearing the explanation, and tried to see over his shoulder what designs had appeared. He could see a red patch of skin on his right shoulder blade, and another on his left. The third patch of red Harry couldn't see, but he sure felt it. It was centered on his back, just above his waistline. Harry couldn't make out any of the details from his awkward viewing angle, and got up to look around for a mirror.
"Now don't worry about what they look like just yet, we still got some work to do. So unless you want that potion burning through you skin, let's get started. Besides, you'll like them better if you see them in full color the first time." The man steered Harry to the chair he'd been using, and instructed Harry to sit on it backwards. Hunched over the hard chair, Harry watched the tattoo artist conjure another chair behind him, and arranged the metal table with his tools within reach.
"Just sit back and relax now," the man told Harry. "This will still hurt a bit, but be nothing like what you just went through. Concentrate on breathing evenly, and it'll help with the pain. It'll all be over soon."
So that's what Harry did, and let the man get to work. The artist started on Harry's left shoulder, and at first the pain hardly seemed like anything. It even seemed to quench the heat coming from the potion's burning sensation. After a few minutes though, the pain increased slowly, until it became a steady ache. It felt like when he was little, and scrapped his knees on the playground. Then a school nurse would come by and pour disinfectant on them. It was tolerable, but Harry did have a few unshed tears in his eyes.
Harry only spoke once, to ask the man which colors he was using, and how he knew which to use. The man responded that the welts on his back had a different look to them, and over the years he had learned which colors to use with which type of welts. It seemed Harry's subconscious had picked out not only the tattoo designs, but their colors as well.
Each shoulder blade took about forty minutes to completely ink in, the one on the small of his back only thirty. That one surprisingly hurt the most. His skin was more sensitive there, and Harry had to stand in an awkward position to allow the artist access to his lower back.
Finally, almost two hours after Harry walked into the shop just to look, the man finished. He packed up his instruments, put his tribal inks away, and muttered a few healing charms over Harry's new markings. The man explained they wouldn't have to be bandaged like muggle tattoos, but would still ache for up to a week. They both left the stall together. Harry had put his pants back on, but carried his shirt and robes so he could see his new tattoos. The artist said there was a three way mirror he could use in another stall.
"Alright kid, you go in and look all you want," he said. "I'm going back up front to relieve Nora, she's due off soon. After you're back in gear, come up to the front and I'll ring you up."
Harry nodded as the man left. The stall with the mirror was a bit more spacious than the other, and off to the side was a large chair with stirrups attached to it. "Ouch!" Harry knew what that chair was for. "I wouldn't do that for all the gold in Gringotts!"
The mirror thankfully wasn't a wizarding one, so it couldn't tell Harry how stupid and irresponsible he'd been for getting a tattoo. He set his shirt and robes aside, and stepped onto the small platform facing the three way mirror. Before he even turned around, Harry noticed how pale he'd become over the years. He used to have a deep tan from all the yard work his aunt had made him do. Harry promised himself that he'd work on his tan this summer while getting more into shape, and turned around to look at his new tattoos.
What he saw made him cry, and not because of any physical pain.
On each of his shoulder blades were two animals, about the size of his fist. They were also looking at each other, as if they knew who the other was. And they did, for Harry recognized them as well. His left shoulder was covered with a four legged creature colored mostly white, outlined in black with gold highlights. It was a stag; the animagus form of his father. "Hello Prongs," Harry whispered.
His right shoulder blade was covered not surprisingly by a large black dog, with a goofy grin and floppy ears. Although he should have been colored a dark black, the dog was actually more of a charcoal grey color, with icy blue eyes. He was highlighted in gold as well, and looked very distinguished. "Hello Padfoot," Harry greeted him.
He hadn't taken a look at his lower back yet, but Harry did then, almost expecting to find a werewolf. But his third tattoo wasn't an animal. It was a small delicate flower; and no it was not a petunia. It was a lily. Harry didn't know what color lilies normally were, but this one was a pale auburn, with an emerald green stem and highlights. Just like the red hair and piercing eyes his mother had had. "Hi mum," Harry cried.
It might have seemed sad to a stranger, to hear that Harry had symbols of his dead parents and godfather tattooed on his back. It wasn't sad though, it made Harry happy. He felt reassured in a way he hadn't ever been before, and oddly comforted by them. The tattoo artist said the tribal tattoos wouldn't begin to show their magical properties until the marks were completely healed, and Harry couldn't wait to see what his guardian's tattoos could do.
It took Harry a few minutes to stop crying and wipe his face, and then another minute to put his clothes back on. He'd have time to look at the tattoos more another time, but it was getting late. His watch told Harry it was approaching eleven at night, and he wanted to get to his room at the Leaky Cauldron soon. Harry was exhausted.
So he entered the front room and paid the man, thanking him for his guidance. The price ended up being just a bit more than the man quoted, but that was because there were three separate tattoos. If the shopkeeper knew how much the tattoos had meant to Harry, he could have tripled the price.
With a last wave goodbye, Harry exited the shop and headed for the tavern. The streets were noticeably more deserted than a few hours ago, and Harry wanted to get out of Knockturn Alley as quickly as possible. The witch's warning from the eyeglass shop about dangerous people still rung sound in Harry's mind, and for good reason too. Not one minute after Harry had stepped out of the tattoo parlor, the same man Harry had noticed earlier that evening stepped out of the shadows to confront Harry.
"You there, cough up your galleons! And be quick about it!" He ordered.
Harry looked around for help, but there was no one else in sight. He thought about yelling out for help, but the man could kill him and be gone faster that anybody would come to his rescue. As it was now, Harry had his back pressed up against a wall with the man about four feet in front of him; his wand pointing at Harry's chest.
"I don't have much money. Just a few sickles for candy!" Harry was trying to stall for time as he thought up a plan.
The man wasn't buying Harry's story though. "Don't be lying now sonny, you might get hurt. I've been following you all day long, and you've been in practically every store on the block. You've been spending money all over town, and now I want the rest!"
'He's been watching me all day?' Harry questioned himself. 'No wonder he knows I've got some money on me. I've been everywhere today!' Harry was still stalling, as he searched his empty pockets for the money pouch that wasn't there. Harry had been keeping it in his tiny trunk since entering Knockturn Alley, and was glad he did now. The few extra seconds this provided led Harry to think about some of the purchases he'd made that day. 'Of course!' Harry remembered. 'I'm wearing my new wand holster. And I can use magic now! He won't know about it, and I can stun him.'
Harry muttered something about being able to not find his wallet, while he pretended to be more scared than he really was. Harry had faced Death Eaters and Voldemort himself, and a street mugger wasn't too much cause for concern in his opinion. And so Harry continued his charade, until he had backed away another foot or so, and went to bring out his wand. With a flick of his wrist, the wand came flying out of Harry's holster, and the street mugger never had time to react. Unfortunately, Harry wasn't as lucky as he was in the basement of Borgin & Burkes, and his hand missed the grab as his wand continued past his closed fist, and hit the mugger's chest with a dull thump.
The mugger laughed an evil cackle. "What's this? You've got an auror's holster, and can't even use it!" He continued to cackle, then grew dead serious. "I might have just let you go after taking your money before, but now I think I'll have to rough you up a bit." Harry didn't know what to do as the mugger stepped on his wand, and shoved Harry to the dirty ground.
"A bit of pain I think to teach you a lesson." The man pointed his wand at Harry's head, and was thinking about what curse to use against him. Harry himself just got a lot more scared than he'd been before he'd lost his wand. He was now defenseless, and moments away from being cursed. He swore to himself about choosing to pack away the dagger he'd bought earlier, and Harry whished he had it now.
So Harry did the only thing he thought of, and crawled back on his elbows and feet as the man reached his silent decision.
"Crawl all you want kid," the man teased, "it'll hurt just the same. I think a nice blast would look good on you. Or rather, through you. REDUCTO!"
Harry heard the curse, and saw the light form on the end of the mugger's wand. He couldn't believe he was going to die, or be seriously maimed, just as he'd decided to take control of his life. It was ironic also, that even the four attempts Voldemort hade made on his life, hadn't brought Harry as close to death as he was right then. He wanted to close his eyes, but Harry wouldn't, and vowed to meet his death head on if it came. And that's when Harry saw a blur of white fly over him, moving between himself and the man's wand. Hedwig.
Hedwig it seemed, although angry at Harry for entering Knockturn Alley, had been following him faithfully, keeping an eye out for him. What kind of friend would she be otherwise? And while she was momentarily upset at her master, she didn't want him to die. So as she saw the mugger point his wand at Harry's prone position, Hedwig took off from her perch on a building awning and flew down to save her master. And she did.
Harry didn't know what happened in the next few seconds. He remembered a few images and sounds, but had no clear recollection of a timeline. If he could remember, he would have known that Hedwig flew down to save him, and took the full blast of the Reductor curse on her back and right wing. He would have remembered kicking at the surprised man with his legs, which sent his wand flying away. And Harry would have remembered scrambling to find his own wand, and turning on the man who was doing the same.
With a shout of "STUPIFY" Harry knocked the man out, and sat up from the dirty cold street. It took another second, but Harry then remembered the white blur that'd saved him. Turning to his left, Harry spotted Hedwig in a bloody heap, still barely moving.
The Reductor curse had injured her back, and burnt off most of her feathers. There was also a hole the size of a snitch blown through her wing, where the curse was focused. Blood and bits of bone could be seen in the red puddle that was steadily growing larger around the owl. For the third time that day, Harry cried.
There was no way that Hedwig could survive, Harry knew. Even if her injuries weren't as extensive, Eeylop's had closed long ago. There was no clean water around to clean the wounds, and Harry had nothing to bandage his friend's wing with. "I'm sorry Hedwig!" Harry cried. "I'm so sorry!"
Harry took off his robes and wrapped them around the dying form of his pet owl. He didn't care what happened to the mugger anymore; Harry just wanted to get out of Knockturn Alley. So with that thought Harry finally reached Diagon Alley, and made a sharp right turn as he approached the Leaky Cauldron. The streets were totally empty, and not a sound was heard except a young man's cries.
Harry entered the tavern carrying Hedwig like a baby, not saying a word, and quickly made his way upstairs to room number four. Once inside, he laid Hedwig down on the bed, and stroked her head and uttered words of love until she stopped moving. It took three more minutes for Hedwig to finally die, and with one more strained breath, she closed her eyes and was still.
Tomorrow, Harry would have to bury his snowy owl.
AUTHOR NOTES:
So, do you think I'm evil? Of course Hedwig was going to die. You didn't think I made her follow Harry around 5 whole chapters for nothing, did you? What will Harry do though? Will he sell her body parts as illegal potion ingredients? Naaaa, we'll just have to wait until the next chapter to find out. Hope everyone liked my "surprising dark twist." I also hoped everyone liked my tattoo parlor scene. I've never been in one, and don't have any tattoos or piercings, so I hope I did the scene justice. For those interested, Habaneros really are that hot, and the panic people go through after eating them have been known to cause mild heart attacks. If you enjoy hot foods as I do, try using a very small amount of cooked peppers to spice up food. And if anyone has the balls to eat a raw pepper, I'd be very impressed. Thanks again for reading. Next chapter, muggle London and Harry returns to Privet Drive.
Updated 11/18/04
I know originally my grammar and spelling could have been better, so I've gone through (I had to for the Schnoogle version anyway) and corrected all that I could find. This is the final version, folks! If you would like to reread the entire fic, there's also other stuff I changed to, besides the spelling. Nothing that will confuse a reader if they don't, but just enough to clean up some edges, and fix some mistakes in the mythology I made. Later all!
Ross